Monster in the Mirror
by discopanic11
Summary: When Thor points out that Bruce's reflection is of the Hulk, Bruce begins to lose it, and Tony-and the rest of the team-talk him down.


_A/N: Based off a live journal prompt: _ . ?thread=10840229#t10840229.

Reviews appreciated!

* * *

It took them a while, but they eventually fell into some sort of routine.

Some nights, Clint would drop in front of TV. And, soon, acting as if she couldn't really care less, Natasha would sidle up next to him. She'd start off with her legs primly crossed, her arms at her sides, but soon she'd lean into Clint, legs folded beneath her, while he in return played with a strand of her deep-red hair.

Then Thor, never uncomfortable as the third wheel, would plop down on Clint's other side, make a booming comment about whatever strange thing was on, and suggest some sort of edible treat be prepared, perhaps the "corn that pops."

Then Steve would enter in a semi-bashful way, take an armchair, smile widely, and make genuine, polite small talk. If anyone earnestly wanted to know how another's day was, it was Steve Rogers.

Soon Tony and Bruce, Tony, naturally, in the lead, would emerge from the lab and take the remaining seats around the TV, Tony talking a mile a second, teasing Natasha and Clint for their closeness and Thor and Steve for their cluelessness about pop culture, and Bruce smiling shyly all the while and jumping in every now and then with his signature wry humor. Pepper would follow suit soon after, dropping (slightly self-consciously, to be fair) into Tony's lap, and then, and only then, would the movie be chosen for that night be chosen, and the corn that pops be made. Movie night could begin.

Bruce hadn't had a good day. He had woken up from the throes of a particularly bad dream: He had been with Betty. Her hands were knotted in his unruly curls; his hands gently held the sides of her face. Even in his dreams, he was careful, treating her as if something made of glass, something that he could shatter with just the wrong touch. But that didn't matter. Her big brown eyes were all his, and the two of them moved in a sort of dance, touching each other every where they could, whispered murmurings lighting the air. It was a blur of all of his memories of intimacy with her pressed into one fluid moment. But then, with his hands on the small of her back, he had felt the change. His arms were thickening, turning green, and she was snapping in his grip. Her limp body hit the ground with a sharp _thwack._ She laid in a pool of her own blood, and then she wasn't just Betty, but his mother too, and he wasn't even the Hulk anymore, but his father, a _monster _in every sense of the word, and the night was black.

He had awoken with his heart beating quickly, hands twisting the bed sheets in a desperate attempt to maintain control. He had managed, but for the rest of the day he had felt on edge, tense and snappish, as if the Other Guy was lurking just under his skin, taught and ready for the slightest gap in Bruce's control to rip him open, roaring.

"Bruce, come on big guy, I know you're with me here," Tony was saying, and Bruce snapped to attention, having no idea what conversation he had missed. He hadn't even wanted to join his team around the TV tonight, but Tony had insisted, and arguing with Tony was a notably pointless and exhausting activity.

"Sorry, what am I with you about?"

"Tony, _no_," Natasha hissed, and Bruce never got to find out what movie Tony was pushing, because Clint jumped in with:

"What about Inception? That's an instant classic."

"We are not watching Inception," Tony said. "Bla bla bla, I can control dreams, if people could _really_ control dreams, there'd be a lot more strippers. Not to mention, that movie is way too easy to figure out."

"Inception is famously impossible to understand," Clint said, raising an eyebrow.

Tony stared blankly.

"I'm Tony Stark…we've met, right?"

Pepper rolled her eyes at Clint. "You can't set him up like that. You'll have him going on about himself for days."

"Tony Stark," Tony continued, trying to dodge Pepper's hand, which was aiming for his face. "You know, brilliant, genius, unbearably good lucking superhero philanthropist, graduated MIT at 16 and went on to—"

"And you're done," Pepper told him, shutting him up with a kiss. He grinned like he had won anyway. And, Bruce mused, he really had. He enjoyed being around Tony and Pepper as a couple—they were, in an odd way, perfect for each other, and that kind of love tended to bathe everything around them in a sort of warm light. But he couldn't deny it made him kind of lonely sometimes. Tony was lucky to be with the one he loved most.

"What about the next Harry Potter?" Steve suggested.

"Ah yes!" Thor boomed. "The boy wizard, and his scar of lightning! I am quite fond of him and his antics."

"Prisoner of Azkaban it is," Bruce said, popping up. He was relieved for the chance to do something. He began rooting through Tony's DVD collection on the expansive shelf besides the TV.

"For a man who has programmed his AI to literally do anything from running his suit to waking up his supposed friends with Lady Gaga hits, you'd think organizing DVDs would be a no brainer," Natasha said. As usual, even her jokes were paired with unblinking eyes and a frown.

"Anything for you, my lady," Tony said. "And if Pepper agrees…I really do mean_ anything_."

"The creepiness really isn't needed, Tony," Bruce said, snatching the right DVD. "Harry's been found."

Steve was looking at Tony with hard eyes. "You really should think about treating Natasha with more respect," he said pointedly.

"And this concludes our daily sexual harassment speech from our personal 90-year-old-virgin," Tony said. "Thanks, buddy."

"You're right, Steve," Pepper said loudly, smiling at the Captain kindly. "Some _respect_, Mr. Stark, could go a long way."

"Is that so, Ms. Potts?"

Bruce leaned down to put the DVD in, and when he stood up, momentarily faced with the TV's blank black face, he was hit with the reflection of the Hulk. It was an aspect of his transformation he had somewhat adjusted to, as he had adjusted to everything else, but it still often alarmed and upset him, and especially when he didn't expect to see it. And he had forgotten, just then, that he was about to.

So instead of moving away immediately, he stared for a moment, his fists tightening, his breath catching in his throat. It was just another reminder that no matter where he was, the Other Guy was there, waiting. He thought of Betty, her bones cracking under his hands as she fell away, of his father, of "MONSTER!"

"Good doctor," Thor said. "I had never before noticed that your reflection is of our green friend."

And that was all it took for Bruce to snap and punch the wide-screen, high definition, state of the art TV in the center of it's blank, accusing face.

It cracked, and stinging pain surged through his fist. He could feel the immediate change in his friends behind him, could feel their bodies tensing, hands reaching for weapons, bracing for the change, but Bruce ignored it all, focused on calming his breathing down, even as he felt something like a wetness prickling behind his eyes…

"Big guy?" Tony said. "That was a brand new TV. There's no need to be so mean to it. I don't think the Hulk was hiding inside."

Bruce whirled around, and he didn't know, or care, if there was green flashing in his eyes, he was coming undone in some quiet place inside of him, and it wasn't just an anger, or a sadness, it was a _helplessness_, a _brokenness,_ and in that instant, he couldn't take it anymore.

"No," Bruce said. "No, the Hulk wasn't hiding inside, because he's hiding inside _me_, and I can't, I can't take it. He's _always there._ And I can run, and run, and run but I can't run from myself because _I'm the monster_ and I'm so sick it! I'm so sick of people being afraid…and being afraid to hurt the ones I love…and I don't see Bruce Banner, I haven't seen Bruce Banner in _years_ because all he is now is this beast and I'm tired of it, I'm so, so, TIRED. And it doesn't even matter, because Bruce Banner is just, has always _been_ an illusion, and my reflection—my reflection shows that. What I _really_ am."

Natasha was on her feet, hand on her gun, eyes sharp. "Bruce," she said. "You need. To calm. Down. Now."

"No, he doesn't," Tony said, and he untangled himself from Pepper and stood up, staring evenly at him. "He's not going to transform, because even though the Hulk's a part of him, their not one and the same. And he's not going to let himself hurt the people he loves because that's not the Bruce Banner I know. And I'm looking at him."

"You can't ever look at me and not see the Other Guy, don't you understand?" Bruce cried. He whirled around to look a the cracked TV, and inside it his reflection was broken, just like him. "We're the _same_."

"He's a part of you," Tony said, and Bruce turned around, his hands flying at his curls, rubbing at his arms, desperate for a piece of himself to pick apart. "Yeah. Just like my narcissism and daddy issues and PTSD are a part of me. And Natasha's distrust of letting people close to her is a part of her. And Thor's evil diva brother is a part of him. And so on and so forth, but I think you get it. The only difference between all of us and you is, is that you have to look it in the face. And that makes you the bravest man I know."

Steve nodded and stood up, placing a tentative hand on Bruce's shoulder. "I told you the first day I met you that what mattered to me were your skills as a scientist," he said. "And your identity as Bruce Banner is _still_ what matters to me. Nobody here sees a monster when they look at you."

Clint stood up as well. "And nobody here sees the Hulk as one, either." He grinned and looked around. "Hell, who _hasn't _been saved by the other guy at this point?"

"Yeah, we all know Katniss here likes to catch rides via Jolly Green," Tony said with a smirk.

Bruce's heart was still beating just a little too fast to be safe, and he still felt sick to his stomach by himself, consumed with hate and anger and need for Betty, and the stupid, insane, unconditional love she gave him (though that of course was why he had to leave her). But his friends…his friends here had just seen him act like a monster in his own skin, punch his reflection and throw a tantrum like a baby and they weren't running. They weren't running.

Thor rose next. "This is true, Bruce Banner," he said. "I did not mean to anger you with my comment. But fear not, because it doesn't matter how you see yourself in the reflection. We all see you one way, and one way only."

Pepper walked over and put a hand on Bruce's other shoulder, her touch gentle, her voice soft. "We trust you, Bruce," she said.

There was a beat. Then Natasha dropped her hand away from her gun, sighed a little, and looked him square in the eyes. "We trust you," she repeated.

And even though he knew this couldn't be a hundred percent true, something in him cracked, but instead of transforming, he let out a choked sob that he quickly tried to stifle in his hand. He wasn't sure if it was because of his reflection, or all of the sadness and hate and exhaustion rustling around him deep inside, or the way the group had all risen in support of him. But it happened, and he was losing control, just in a different sense then he normally did.

Pepper and Steve both moved to put their arms around him, and Tony said, "This absolutely is _not_ going to turn into a group hug," but then Tony moved forward and put a hand on Bruce's shoulder, and Clint walked over to stand beside Tony, and Natasha to stand besides Clint, and Thor to stand behind Bruce, and there wasn't exactly a group hug, but there was a moment when they were in one tight circle with a shaking, quietly-sobbing Bruce in its heart, and they all stayed there, minute after minute, until Bruce slowly calmed down and wiped the wetness from his eyes and dropped his tense hands to his sides.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I lost control like that—"

"You don't have to apologize," Steve said.

"It means…it means a lot to me that you guys…"

And then Tony was ducking away from the group and pulling the Harry Potter DVD out of the player and swinging it on a finger. "Come on gang," he said. "I have an even bigger TV one floor over and we have a movie to watch."

One by one the group broke apart and filed after Tony, who glanced back at Bruce to make sure he really was okay before leading the group away. Bruce felt a sudden rush of love for his new friend. Everybody had their own ideas about Tony Stark, and most of them, Bruce decided, were wrong.

Only Pepper lingered behind, a gentle hand on Bruce's elbow as she led him, a little slowly, after the group. "You're going to be okay?" she asked.

Her kindness almost broke him again. He nodded. "Tony's lucky to have you," he said.

Pepper paused, and then leaned her head close to his ear. "Whoever she was was even luckier to have you."

He remembered the feel of Betty's soft lips under his own, the feel of her hair spilling over him, the feel of her delicate face under his hands. He had treated her like something made of glass. He had treated her like something far too beautiful and wondrous to have ever stumbled into his dark mess of a life.

"I don't know about that," he said, with his usual wry, self-deprecating smile.

"I do," Pepper said.

They set up around the new TV in their usual fashion.

"And now the corn that pops," Thor said, and Bruce popped up again.

"Start without me," he called.

He took what he knew would be the first of many bags and dropped it in the microwave. As he closed the door and went to punch in the numbers, he was met with, once again, the reflection of the Other Guy, staring impassively back at him.

He flinched—he didn't think he would ever not—but then inhaled and exhaled, and moved away. He didn't think there would ever be a time when he wouldn't be sickened by what he saw in the mirror. But if he could believe that maybe, just _maybe_, his friends weren't completely sickened by the monster Bruce knew he was—then maybe he could begin to hope for a tiny bit of peace.


End file.
